It Hurts To Feel

It Hurts to Feel
A poetic account of the ambivalent consequences of searching

for identity and lifes meaning in the world of the images of
desire.
Humberto Gmez Sequeira-HuGS

It Hurts to Feel. Copyright 1992, 2014, 2017 by Humberto
Gmez Sequeira-HuGS. All rights reserved, including the
right to reproduce this book or portions thereof in any form
whatsoever.
ISBN-13: 978-1546910428
ISBN-10: 1546910425
First Edition: June of 1992

Second Edition: July of 2014
About the Pictures in this Book
The picture on the cover: Ana Mara Sequeira Viuda de

Gmez, the authors mother. It was taken in Los Angeles,
California, U.S., on May 29, 2012.
The picture on the back cover logo: Roxannita Gmez
Sequeira and her father, HuGS, at the Pershing Square Park
in Los Angeles, CA, U.S. Circa 1974.
The picture on page 3: HuGS at the office of El Mundo (The
World) newspaper in Granada, Nicaragua. Circa 1967.
The picture on page 11: HuGS being interviewed by his
daughter, Roxanna Gmez-Ubau, about It Hurts to Feel. Los
Angeles, California, U.S. Circa 1992.
The picture on page 43: Lorri Jackson, author of My Mouth Is
a Hole in My Face. She was born on December 1, 1961, in
Louisville, KY, and died on October 9, 1990, in Chicago, IL.
The Third Edition of this book was printed in the United

States in the Summer of the year of thinking without the
impulse of the divine breath 2017.
Also by Humberto Gmez Sequeira-HuGS
2014 Notes from My Mobile Brain
Socialism of the XXI Century or the Anti-revolution (Spanish

Edition)
Nicaragua: The Dialogue Between the Doctrinaire Priests and

the Trustees (Spanish Edition)
In Transition Towards Poetry: Granada (Nicaragua), the

Bourgeoisie, and the FSLN (Spanish Edition)
Visions of a Somnambulist (Spanish Edition)

Dedication
I dedicate this book to the following persons:
Ana Mara Sequeira Viuda de Gmez, my mother
Franklin Bartolom Gmez Sequeira, Jos Dolores Gmez

Sequeira, Martn Gerardo Gmez Sequeira, and Mayra
Alejandra Gmez Sequeira, my siblings
Roxanna Gmez-Ubau, my daughter
Mara del Rosario Aguirre Durn, my life partner
Karen Reyes Bernhard
Monica Canales
Doreen Espinoza
Teresinka Pereira
Alma Ivette Durn
Winston Flores
Rodolfo Sotelo Jr.

Preface
I don't remember if I was a child. My nervous system
is a gallery of dead, emotional memories.
My willful and sentimental disownment of my

childhood pain is one of the images that compose It Hurts to
Feel. In 1992, I used the remains of my memory of my
experience as a boy in the world dominated by adultsarmed
with lies, guns, crucifixes, threats, and whipsas the sensible
material with which I wrote some of the poems in this
collection.
This book is also my account of the ambivalent

consequences of my search for identity, the meaning of life,
and redemption in the world of the images of desire. The
turbulent state of the mind in which I lived then, preoccupied
with my desire, pursuing the feeling of pleasure in the
emptiness of self-gratification, is reflected in the mirror of my
poetic vision then.
My experience as the object of feeling and

dissatisfaction with the results of the use of my sentiment as a
condition of my interaction with the world led me to declare:
"For love, I won't die as long as I have a thought to rest my
head on."
I wrote the poems in a society dominated by the idea

that love for the God and the country owned by the ruling class
is the greatest feeling that can be experienced. This state is the
degenerative consequence of the confinement of the natural
human feeling in the borderlines and dogmas of the Church
viii Contents
and the State, which are the executioners of the ruling class
desire.
The clergymen and the statesmen have eliminated the

freedom of the human being to feel without the ruling class
religionist and nationalist dogmas. Thus, they have
manufactured the stimulus, nationalism, with which they incite
society to make war to preserve the ruling class as the source
of their feeling of morality, nationality, brutality, and pride.
Feeling hurts when the human beings freedom to feel

according to its instinct is circumcised and patented by the
Church and the State.
Poetry is my effort to feel and imagine humanity and

the world it has created without the ruling class feeling, which
its Church and State impose on societys mind as the moral
law.

Los Angeles, California, U.S. | June 29, 2017
Acknowledgements
Roxanna Gmez-Ubau accompanied me with her luminosity
through the turbulence of the empty emotions I generated as
the non compos mentis prologue to It Hurts to Feel.
Mara del Rosario Aguirre Durn contributes to the production

of my literary works with her dedication to the cultivation of
our friendship.
Karen Reyes Bernhard stimulated my perception with the

vibration of her life, her enunciation, and the laughter of her
French neurons.
Teresinka Pereira supported the publication of my literary

works and translated them to Portuguese.
Alma Ivette Durn read my works with loyalty and enthusiasm,

and, thus, stimulated me to keep writing.
Winston Flores, Rodolfo Sotelo Jr., Monica Canales, and

Doreen Espinoza befriended me and the intellectual activity I
conductedthrough states of inebriated dysfunctionalityin
the time of Sacrifice the Common Sense.
Contents
Preface ............................................................................................ vi
Purple Moon ................................................................................ 13
Doubt ............................................................................................ 14
Liberation ...................................................................................... 15
Resurrection ................................................................................. 16
Prehistoric Bird ............................................................................ 17
Last Prayer .................................................................................... 18
Heart and Wings .......................................................................... 19
Survivor ......................................................................................... 20
Hope .............................................................................................. 21
Strange Tongue ............................................................................ 22
Solitary Tree ................................................................................. 23
Dolphin Woman .......................................................................... 24
Equation........................................................................................ 25
Transformation ............................................................................ 26
Soldiers and Pesticides ................................................................ 27
Metallic Light................................................................................ 29
God's Temple ............................................................................... 30
Urban Catacombs ........................................................................ 31
Exorcism ....................................................................................... 32
Peregrine Bird .............................................................................. 33
Erratic Bullets............................................................................... 34
Blood and Salt .............................................................................. 35
Honey and Blood......................................................................... 36
Twenty-one ................................................................................... 37
Arrival ............................................................................................ 38
Somnambulist............................................................................... 39
Blackout ........................................................................................ 40
Where Fear Incubates ................................................................. 41
Fire and Water.............................................................................. 42
Contents xi
To Lorrie Jackson ........................................................................ 43

A New Idea .................................................................................. 45
Dream Formula ........................................................................... 46
Lying on the Beach...................................................................... 47
Discovery ...................................................................................... 48
The Serpents Kiss ....................................................................... 49
The Traveler ................................................................................. 50
What I Am .................................................................................... 51
The Old Woman .......................................................................... 52
Alone ............................................................................................. 53
Heavenly Father ........................................................................... 54
Ritual.............................................................................................. 55
Buried Alive .................................................................................. 56
Buried Alive II ............................................................................. 57
It Hurts to Feel ............................................................................ 58
The Weatherman ......................................................................... 59
Ashes and Wind ........................................................................... 60
Justice ............................................................................................ 61
Memory ......................................................................................... 62
Vision ............................................................................................ 63
Reincarnation ............................................................................... 65
Introduction to This Life Isn't Mine ............................................ 66
Epilogue ........................................................................................ 67
Bibliography ................................................................................. 68
About the Author ........................................................................ 71
The life I have lived is not boastful or glamorous. Its
magnitude is equal to the number of atoms that are necessary
to create a dream. The only attribute it carries is the temporality
of its ideological presence amongst the other creatures of
nature.
Life as a vertebrate enabled me to crawl up the logical path of

the human existence and feel the luminous vibration of the
universe on my umbilicus.

It Hurts to Feel
Purple Moon
walking
barefoot
on
a lava desert
under
the light of a Purple Moon
seeking
the eyes of the blind
old
man who guided my childhood
through
the cavernous world of the lepers
my feet bled
water and salt
until
the desert became
a new ocean floor
Page 14
It Hurts to Feel
Doubt
I dont know
whether
to
keep drawing vain smiles
in the morning
as if last night
an ovum rain
would have fallen
on my umbilicus
or
build a rocket
with my bones and veins
and catapult my heart
into the sky
Page 15
Liberation
when the brain liberates its self
from the gravitational force
of the impetuous senses
it will fly like the seagull in the sky
that guides the blue ship
that crosses the silent states
of the awareness of the world
Page 16
It Hurts to Feel
Resurrection
The rain that fell from Jupiter
washed the scars
of fear and pain
off my human flesh.
Like a resurrected serpent,

I crawled,
through sand and wind,
to return to the garden
where my infant heart grew.
Page 17
Prehistoric Bird
Tired of breathing this life,
like a fish swimming in sand,
I stopped at a cemetery
and put my head to rest
on a marble tomb.
I fell asleep and dreamed

I exhumed the ashes
of my dead relatives
with my bare hands.
Then, I jumped onto

the top of a mango tree,
inhaled the inanimate dust,
and flew away
like a prehistoric bird.
Page 18
It Hurts to Feel
Last Prayer
To Lyle Mutschler
I put on the pants

of a young poet
who hung himself
with a string of verses
he wrote to his girlfriend.
While walking on
a blue cloud,
my feet told me
forgotten stories
of my childhood.
I can 't hear the rhythm

of the interest rates anymore.
All the empires have

fallen.
Will someone recite the last prayer,

now that Jehovah is overthrown?
My heart is murmuring
a new theory of the origin
of the universe.
Page 19
Heart and Wings

Im an animal dressed
with the flesh of men.
Underneath my skeleton,
palpitates a heart
that is not savage,
but it has wings.
Page 20
It Hurts to Feel
Survivor
I am a space sailor strayed
temporarily on Earth;
the only survivor of the love
of a mermaid and an archangel.
Of this world, I have nothing

and nothing in it I leave,
except for the music of my tongue
and the writings of my feet.
My ship and my star

are anchored deeply
in the Sea of Tranquility,
where strange rainbows bloom.
When it rains, a blue dolphin

swims happily in my head
and my lungs levitate
like my fathers enchanted wings.
Page 21
Hope
For each day that passes,
unconsciously, through
the mortal remains of the night,
I cut a piece of my body,
of water and calcium,
and plant it with the hope
that tomorrow the Earth
will engender umbilical cords
to reunite us with the stars.
Page 22
It Hurts to Feel
Strange Tongue
Last night, I heard the ocean
singing in my head
a song from my childhood.
I dreamed I was a somnambulist

dancing with a serpent
on the belly of the Moon.
When I awoke,
there were colored fishes
on my bed
and a ghost speaking to me
in a strange tongue.
Page 23
Solitary Tree
My lips are drying from kissing
the passing reflection of your ovum
on the surface of the wind.
The cold covers

my warm-blooded animal skin
like a spider web in the night.
And when it dawns,

I have ice needles emerging
from the tips of my bones.
Those who yesterday

drank from my wine
and took shelter in my hands
today say
that I am an incurable madman
because they have seen me naked,
running after a moon
filled with yellow fetuses
or
crying, unknowingly,
like a solitary tree,
tears that, upon falling,
break
like frozen leaves.
Page 24
It Hurts to Feel
Dolphin Woman
Im looking for a woman,
sincere and inventive,
like a blue dolphin,
who is not afraid
of receiving me in her uterus
and transforming the mammalian body
I inhabit mortally.
A woman who can

give me wings instead of hands,
fins instead of feet,
kiss me on my mouth
when Im sleeping,
and liberate me from the fear
that my mother infused me.
Page 25
Equation
my brain and I
in the center
of this cosmic ring
like two gladiators

fighting to overcome
the weight of the night
when the equation is solved

in the variable future
one of us will be dead
Page 26
It Hurts to Feel
Transformation
If I could transform
my nebulous dreams
into ships with sails,
my lungs would fly
like paper airplanes
over the mind fields
of innocence and curiosity
where a boy plays
with his imaginary train.
Page 27
Soldiers and Pesticides

The circumstances are the same:
God and his creation prescribed
by a society of priests and soldiers
according to the political reason
that sustains the lethal profits
of the pesticides cartel.
Old people,
fear and hunger dripping
from their tongues,
eat the body and drink the blood
of a Messiah crucified by Rome.
The Smithsonian Institute imports

skeletons of African children
consumed by the voracious
desire of the multitudes shaped
by the imperialist economies.
The contaminated truth is flowing

in the heart of the microwave oven.
McDonalds clown is capable

of manipulating the hunger
of millions of TV viewers.
But flexing my heart's muscle

would only cause embarrassment
to those who believe in liberalism,
but also know how to appreciate
the value of the death penalty.
Page 28
It Hurts to Feel
Instead, I'll use the hole on the top of my head

to collect the acid rain.
Boys are forbidden to cry

and imitate their mothers.
Learn the art of managing your pains

and you'll be free.
Page 29
Metallic Light
Exposed
to the living danger,
inhaling
the last molecule,
my eyes become water wells
where birds and clouds stop
to rest for a while.
The traffic passes

through my heart,
dressed in feathers,
like sharp nails.
I can hear the bones crashing

against the explosion of metallic light
on the pavement,
taste the blood of the afternoon
dying in my open mouth.
Page 30
It Hurts to Feel
Gods Temple
Forgive the child
standing outside gods temple
begging for bread and mercy.
The soldiers of the Roman faith

wrapped him in barbwire
and stuck a crucifix in his chest.
In the indifferent presence

of Vicars and Senators,
he bled until he died.
Page 31
Urban Catacombs
The depressed night smells of wet asphalt
mixed with the waste of the liberty
of the consumers of political promises.
A rain, indifferent to justice, washed

the blood stains on the sidewalks
where the bodies pursued by the bullets
of institutionalized suspicion fall.
The atmospheric silence manipulates the fear

of being a social experiment in the catacombs
of the racial awareness of imperial democracy.
Behind the image of my thought,

I left a mantra and a candle burning
for the passerby who will come to get me.
Will he be able to distinguish me amongst the spirits

who converge in the nocturnal solitude?
Will I be able to tell him that I am still alive?
Page 32
It Hurts to Feel
Exorcism
Im flagellating my self
with ten penises
made of serpent skin
to exorcise the infant
demons out of my head.
Page 33
Peregrine Bird
Of us,
the human mammals,
the only thing that remains is
a body of muscle,
bone, and water.
The Earth that engenders us,

in the end, reclaims the eyes
that ignited the first flame.
For this reason,

living and mortal,
I, like a peregrine bird,
search for my path,
tirelessly, in the sky.
Page 34
It Hurts to Feel
Erratic Bullets
erratic bullets ignite the night
that calls the urban beasts
to battle and kill
the innocence of dreaming
the State presides over

the cannibalistic orgy
and newspapers sell its remains
in the morning
Page 35
Blood and Salt

Each time I feel
that my heart starts to beat,
like a bird that crashed against a mirror,
I remember when I was a boy
and liked walking barefoot
on
the tongue of the Sun
and making little pools of urine in the dust,
under the shadow
of a lime tree.
Possessed by the desire

to suck the breasts of the night,
I awake and bite the tips of my fingers
until the blood infuses my tongue
with the comforting taste of salt.
Page 36
It Hurts to Feel
Honey and Blood

Tonight,
before the world implodes,
I'll dig a hole in my heart
to protect my pineal gland.
Cover my body
with honey and blood;
the spiders will do
the rest.
Page 37
Twenty-one
For my daughter, Roxanna Gmez-Ubau
if my heart transformed
into a bone
I would fly away
with my lungs
through clouds
of acid flowers
emotions are like sugar-candy
for love I won't die

as long as I have a thought
to rest my head
on
I won't resign to the virtue

of a consolation prize
instead
I'll fight to subdue the social intention
predesigned to repress
the arousal of desires
and the extreme manifestation
of the orgasmic realities
Page 38
It Hurts to Feel
Arrival
when I came to the U. S.
I was young
like a premature Indian sky
and the scent of Safeway Stores
turned me
on
Page 39
Somnambulist
talking sedated
in my sleep
strange verbs
mother knew
the devil wouldn't come
walking barefoot
on
the oviparous skin of the night
towards the door
mother always held me
with her crucifix
before my head
fell
in
the void
Page 40
It Hurts to Feel
Blackout
last night
I felt
drops of barbituric acid
falling
from the sky
but I don't remember
if
I fell
asleep
or
went into a coma
must have been

the kilowatts I drank
to resist
the collapse of reason
in
my head
again
Page 41
Where Fear Incubates

tomorrow
when I feel better
I will break the skull
where fear incubates
then
I will have the courage
to awake
with the eyes of my childhood
I will plant my testicles

in the sea
and extract my heart
to teach him
how to fly
Page 42
It Hurts to Feel
Fire and Water

Don't take me for granted.
If I wanted,
I could eliminate the morning.
What a waste of time!
You don't know

fire and water can
coalesce inside
the pores of my brain.
Drinking beer together,

like pink notes
vibrating in space,
will not cause forgiveness.
Mediocrity is the spirit

of the society obsessed with war
and the virginity of the male anus.
The nature and intention

of a black hole
are not part of Jehovahs
resurrection plan.
In the beginning,
there was only a cloud
of Hydrogen and Helium.
Page 43
To Lorri Jackson
when I am inside
the pupilla of the night
I shed the old skin
and let my heart be
sacrificed
in the rituals of demons
transformed into a serpent

I emerge into the light
and bite
all the instigations
to feel and desire
I don't remember
if I was a child
my nervous system is a gallery
of dead emotional memories
Page 44
It Hurts to Feel
when I attain wisdom

I want to be demented and senile
numbness is my philosophical style
I offer my pains to the god of vanity

to immunize my self
against the deadly effects of Christianity
this is how I confront

the dream made of gasoline
and decaying prophecies
when love and depression try

to seduce me
I spit fire
into the preacher's mouth
I am beyond redemption
pray for your own fears
Page 45
A New Idea
I turn off the light
to
penetrate the void
perception paralyzed
everything implodes
my eyes transform
into
black-holes
space-time dissolves
in
the dust that grows
on
my books
a new idea could

help me awake
Page 46
It Hurts to Feel
Dream Formula
At night,
before starting to dream,
I peel off my skin
and pluck my eyeballs.
Don't stand in front of

the doors of my perception.
The serpent in the nest
could arise and bite you.
Page 47
Lying on the Beach

the seagulls fly
in the invisible currents
of the air around my pupils
like paper ships
the oceans breath

penetrates my nostrils
transforming me
into a fish
when I awoke
the sky had liquefied
time had advanced
without my head
and my dream had not happened
yet
Page 48
It Hurts to Feel
Discovery
When the carnivorous desire burns out,
the heart explodes like a pomegranate,
and the wind blows
the ashes of death
on
the bed of torment and sweat,
where the sexual pleasure
has decayed.
When I thought
I was in love,
I did not know emotions
were made at the Vatican
and sold
by the Hallmark company.
Page 49
The Serpents Kiss

the serpents descended
from their nests
on
the tree branches
the Sun ignited little explosions

of color and light
in their eyes
they erected and formed

with their tongues
a red circle around me
some
whispered ancient secrets
into my tympanums
others
preferred to kiss me
on my jugulars
transmuted by their alchemy

I crawled into the forest
looking for my old skins
Page 50
It Hurts to Feel
The Traveler
the traveler walks
alone
with his head
illuminated amongst the clouds
that populate his memories
of the past
the magnetism irradiated

by the movement of his shadow
resuscitates the soul of the night
on one side of the road

the Moon has descended
over the canopy of a tree
to cry tears of silver
behind him
with crowns of white light
on their heads
a choir of dead children
walks singing
arias of glory to the atom
and the eternity of the universe
Page 51
What I Am
I am an undulating
optical illusion
reflected
on
the surface of the water
in the well of emotions.
I am a sound
vibrating in the space
drawn by the wings
of a peregrine bird
flying without rest.
I am a cloud of veins
floating above my head,
absorbing
the dreams that cause
the effect that is my life.
Page 52
It Hurts to Feel
The Old Woman

the old woman made a deep incision
on the skin of my memory
with her old fingernails
I remembered the smell

of the air at the cemetery
where my childhood is buried
human beings and flowers

decomposed together
in the eyes of angels
a piece of the periodic table

had to be extracted from her mouth
she told me
and that I was the only one
who could help her capture
the nocturnal creatures of habit
that were devouring her veins
making a polite remark

I draw a smile
with my pores
in the air
while carefully trying
to rearrange her face
with the pieces of flesh
falling
on the floor
Page 53
Alone
alone
inside my bubble
I hear my mind
chanting the incitation:
keep taking the risk
agitating the winds
of atheism and moral inconformity
don't prostrate before the idols
of resignation and convenience
subvert the resurrection
transcend the absurdity
of the sacraments
Page 54
It Hurts to Feel
Heavenly Father
when I am
less than the creature
that begs forgiveness
from his heavenly father
below the governments poverty line
and the statistics of war
that define the American way
Ill be free
wont feel
repentance or sorrow
Page 55
Ritual
some
try to elevate prayers
like kites in the sky
others
bend their foreheads
and touch the pictures
of their patron saints
a few
signate quickly and murmur
their superstitious fears
when they see a crucifix
a ritual of faith and minimum wage
the smog of the taxed democracy

penetrates the nostrils
of gods creatures
seducing them into sleep
in their rented cells

they fatefully wait
to die to be saved
Page 56
It Hurts to Feel
Buried Alive
The past I keep
in
the bottom of my head,
cries
in the middle of the night,
horrifyingly,
like a boy
who was buried alive
with a crucifix
engraved
on his chest.
Page 57
Buried Alive II
The dead I carry
in
my bone marrow
awake at midnight
to tell me stories
of the origin of my umbilicus
and the time
before my residence
in
the womb of silence.
The turbulence of sleep

separates the body
from the skeleton,
and when
I fall
in
the void
my lungs scream
in horror.
Page 58
It Hurts to Feel
It Hurts to Feel
it hurts to feel life
like a light bulb palpitating
at the temporal end of all desires
each body is the object

of the commercialized pain
our dreams are a pharmacological formula

in the experimental laboratories
of the Pentagon and the Vatican
I like my own hallucinations

because in them I see
clearly
the vanity of life
arranged by the Church and the State
with the moralized dogma
madness is the incubator

of the necessary transformations
of the bone and the flesh
when pain attacks me

I take it and insert it
on the most attractive joint of my body
and sell it
like a prostitute intoxicated
with faith and patriotism
Page 59
The Weather Man

When the weather man was a boy,
he caught trains by their tails,
made airplanes with the pages of Readers Digest,
and designed clouds
blowing oxygen in his mind.
Page 60
It Hurts to Feel
Ashes and Wind

look at me fiercely
I am the dying skin of desire
my eyes cant shine
and my tongue cant feel
the passionate taste of living
I am disappearing
like the ashes of a corpse

that the wind swallows
Page 61
Justice
if men bled
like women
before ejaculating
perhaps
the menstrual pain
would transform them
into forgiven angels
Page 62
It Hurts to Feel
Memory
when I was a boy
I had wings
my heart was a sea-shell

that sang ancient African songs
and my lungs were blue fishes

that swam in the palms of my hands
Page 63
Vision
I went
out
into the world of financial opportunities
naked
with my eyes dressed as pigeons
sky dripping lava

on
streets covered with volcanic ashes
woman in an alley
extracting a hybrid from her uterus
black dog sniffing
licking her thighs
circling her
wildly
blind children in the sewers

singing Gregorian chants
white horse running

on a beach of burnt oil
the Dow Jones

fell
at the end
of the wars for the conquest
of the faith and the fossils
that light the spirit of usury
the rats ate the bankers

Page 64
It Hurts to Feel
flags and crucifixes lost their value
the last idol couldn't overcome

the impotence of its fear
some people discovered

the power of transformation
and became lizards
Page 65
Reincarnation
This morning,
I awoke inside the uterus
of a dead woman.
Page 66
Introduction to This Life Isnt Mine
The Safety Razor

the prophecies of fear
eroded
in the urban caverns
depressed mammalians
swallow
Gillette mixed with Gallo
fetuses poisoned with Agent Orange

recycle the faith
in
the military chemistry of imperial democracy
A-bomb lobotomy
applied with precision
to
experimental genocide
the containment of the war rabies

in Mr. Oppenheimers nuclear mind
a dream of Japanese hearts

combusting perpetually
under the Jovian rain
Epilogue
I devoted the bloom of my affections to the cultivation of pure
disdain for the value of living in conformity. Like a falcon,
inflamed with intention, perched on a high electrical wire, I
exposed the reason for my skepticism of the canons of the
militarized order. In the court of the oracles that dictate the
infallible sentences of liberty, I revealed the conspiracy of piety
and power. And I danced for the revival of intellectuality, with
the magic mushroom in my head, until the flower of my ideal
began to dissipate within the light cycles of the infinite mind.

Bibliography
Books by Humberto Gmez Sequeira-HuGS
In Transition Towards Poetry (Spanish Edition) 1978
Whats the Meaning of All This? 1988
I Was Caught in a Cloudy Turbulence 1989
First Amendment: Rejected Stories 1989
When I Was a Boy, I Had Wings 1990
Somnambulist (Spanish Edition) 1990
The Liberation of the Senses 1991
Quando Era Menino Tinha Asas 1991
Translation by Teresinka Pereira
It Hurts to Feel 1992
This Life Isnt Mine 1994
Visions of a Somnambulist (Spanish Edition) 2011
In Transition Towards Poetry: Granada 2014
(Nicaragua), the Bourgeoisie, and the FSLN
(Spanish Edition)
Nicaragua: The Dialogue Between the Doctrinaire 2014
Priests and the Trustees (Spanish Edition)
Socialism of the XXI Century or the Anti- 2016
revolution (Spanish Edition)
2014 Notes from My Mobile Brain 2017
Page 69
Bibliography
Magazines That Have Published

HuGS Works
Poema Censurado - Los Angeles, CA, U.S. 1977
La Prensa Literaria - Managua, Nicaragua 1977
Poema Convidado - Boulder, CO, U.S. 1978
Taller - Len, Nicaragua 1978
Rojo y Negro - Los Angeles, CA, U.S. 1978
L.A. Weekly - Los Angeles, CA, U.S. 1987
Directory of International Writers and Artists - 1988
Moorhead, MN, U.S.
Mutated Viruses - Chicago, IL, U.S. 1988
Sacrifice the Common Sense - Los Angeles, CA, 1989
U.S.
For Poets Only - Jackson Heights, NY, U.S. 1989
The Nocturnal Lyric - Pasadena, CA, U.S. 1989
Southern Rose Review - Ripley, MS, U.S. 1989
The Plowman - Ontario, Canada 1989
Worldwide Poets Circle / Poetry by the Seas - 1989
Oceanside, CA, U.S.
The Aldebaran - Bristol, RI, U.S. 1990
Gypsy - El Paso, TX, U.S. 1990
Poetalk - Berkeley, CA, U.S. 1990
Harvest 15 - Boulder, CO, U.S. 1991
Transio - Boulder, CO, U.S. 1991
Page 70
Bibliography
Rfagas - Paris, France 1993

Estrella del Sur - Paterna, Valencia, Espaa 1997
Lluvia de Vidrio - Azul, Buenos Aires, Argentina 1997
La Crnica de Jan / Poesa Sin Fronteras - Jan, 1999
Andaluca, Espaa
Free Venice Beachhead - Venice, CA, U.S. 2011
mundopoesa.com - U.S. 2012
Page 71
About the Author
I am a Deoxyribonucleic acid (DNA) specimen who evolved

on Earth from star dust and bacterium, approximately, 3
billion years ago. Life and the law of natural selection
transformed my ancestors into Homo Erectus. Led by their
curiosity about themselves and the universe, they created fire
and the first tools of cognition. The intellect that they
developed and transferred to my genes transformed me into a
Homo Sapiens. When my curiosity is stimulated, I can
ratiocinate, discern, and laugh, para-normally in the dark, like a
child entrapped by his fascination with dementia.

About the Author
1. Birth
My mother told me that she gave birth to me in the
room where she lived with my older brother, Franklin
Bartolom Gmez Sequeira, in the Santa Luca ghetto of the
City of Granada, Nicaragua, Central America. Her neighbor
gave her first aid until my maternal grandmother, Dolores
(Mama Lola) Lacayo de Sequeira, arrived and helped her
deliver me. At midday, I came out of her uterus yawning and
hungry. My Mama Lola severed my umbilical cord and buried
it in a hole in the Earth, without a marker, on March 12, 1949.
After I had turned three years old, without having

spoken any of the words of childhood, my mother told me that
she started to fear that I, perhaps, was born mute. To solve her
doubt, one day she put me to the test, to see how I would react.
She did not give me the bottle of milk at the time on which I
was accustomed to receiving it. Then, you came to me, pulled
my dress, and told me: Mama, milk. And this is how I found
out that you were normal.
One day [mother continues telling me the story of my

childhood] you drank from the tin where I kept the creolin
because you were a glutton and, perhaps, you thought it was
milk [creolin changes color, from blackish-brown to white,
when it is mixed with water]. However, thanks to God, you did
not die."
Page 73
About the Author
2. Memories
2.1 A Wild Plant
I grew up, accidentally, like a wild plant, in La Otra
Banda, a reduccin (reduction) that was built in Granada by the
Spanish Empire and the Catholic Empire to intern the
dispossessed survivors of their war of conquest and pillage
against the indigenous nations. It was part of the remains of
the encomienda and Indian reductions plan that the Spanish
Empires soldiers, encomenderos (trustees of land and native
slaves), and curas doctrineros (the catholic doctrinaire priests)
executed in Nicaragua. The reduced natives were the basis of
the Xalteva Church: A source of forced faith, labor, and
payment of tribute to a monarchy whose colonialist
descendants still live off the wealth that they inherited from the
genocide and the larceny that their ancestors committed
against the indigenous nations.
After my mother had impregnated me with her blood,

the Church and the State marked me as their farm animal with
the same iron of identification with which they had marked my
parents and grandparents: proletarian. Thus, the bourgeoisie
maintained its false sense of identity pure as the ruling class; its
life differentiated from the life of the proletariat as an already
identified enemy, and its power intact.
The purpose of the reduction was to serve as the

physical, psychological, and cultural reducer of the natives life.
The encomenderos and curas doctrineros demarcated their space
with the whip, the crucifix, punishment, and fear. Thus they
Page 74
About the Author
implanted in the reduced natives mind the illusion that God

had created the rich and the poor. The curas doctrineros sermon
exalted the natives dispossession as a condition that earned
them the sympathy of God. The elements of the natives world
that the catholic colonialists created were dispossession,
obscurantism, illiteracy, superstition, alcoholism, violence,
confession, punishment, and the fear of the God that the
Spanish Army had imported to Nicaragua as a war weapon.
The confession of faith in God and Somoza was the

norm within which the curas doctrineros and the National
Guardsmen had framed the lives of the natives who had been
conquered to enlarge the coffers of Spain and the Vatican.
Superstition mixed with the unequal economic struggle against
the bourgeois and clerical parasites to survive was the reducer
of their need to overthrow the reduction and act as the
historical subjects of reality, that is, life as a natural, sensual,
scientific, and political event.
The relationship between the oppressors and the

oppressed of Granadaunder One God made in Rome and
One Dictator made in the U.S.that engendered me was the
same during the colonial period. The conquerors instituted
themselves as the reason and moral for the existence of the
conquered that they consumed throughout their generations.
My maternal grandparents also lived in La Otra Banda as the
inheritors of the dehumanizing effects of the war of economic,
mental and cultural dispossession, and enslavement that the
Spanish Empire and the Catholic Empire unleashed against
Nicaragua in 1522.
Page 75
About the Author
2.2 The Pacific Railway of Nicaragua
One of the memories of the life that I lived in Granada,

Nicaragua, is the station of the Pacific Railway of Nicaragua.
There, Montenegro, my coworker, and I boarded the trains
third-class carriage in the early morning, together with the
peasants who, like us, were going to sell their products in the
towns whose territories were crossed by the train tracks.
For us, the kids who were studying at the Padre Misieri
Elementary Schoolwhich was a neighbor of the train
stationthe train was like a giant horse with wheels that had
evolved in the imagination of humanity. It stimulated our joy
when we heard the sound of its whistle, and the roar of its
engine announcing its return from Corinto.
After having been dismissed from the afternoon

session classes, we ran towards the train station, jumped into
its cars, and joined it in its final trip to the warehouse located
at the Lake Nicaragua pier. When the workers had finished
unloading the goods that the train brought in its wagons and
depositing them in the warehouse, the machinist operated the
locomotive in reverse until we arrived at the turntable at the
train station. There, we helped the driver to turn the
locomotives head for its journey back to the stations of the
North on the next morning.
The train arrived in Granada as a noble ambassador

that crossed the Coalbrookdale Iron Bridge in England to bring
the news of the fire of the industrial revolution that the
proletariat had ignited in Europe. Its fiery and sonorous head
came full of dreams, games, romances, and progress for the
Page 76
About the Author
pillaged nation. It was a historical monument to the proletariat

for its contribution to the development of the transportation
of production and efficiency in the satisfaction of the needs of
society. The progress of the nationespecially of the
proletarian family who looked after the traindepended on
the preservation and development of it as part of the culture
of a nation that had been looted and kept in backwardness.
The reactionary bourgeoisiewhich was engendered by the
Spanish Empire, the Catholic Empire, and the Yankee
Empiresaw the train only as a commodity that did not
produce surplus value.
Although the workers had built it as a ship to travel to

the futurewith vision, determination, and steelthe train
became a fragile object in the hands of Adolfo Daz Recinos
who was a trusted bandit of the White House and the Holy
See. As a member of the Conservative Party, Daz Recinos
took the power of the State in 1911 with the backing of the
Colonialist Catholic Church (CCC) and the U.S. Marine Corps,
whose violent intrusion in the life of Nicaragua he requested.
As the former secretary of the La Luz and Los Angeles

Mining Companyowned by James Gilmore Fletcher and his
brothers, G. Fred & D. Watson Fletcher, and Henry P.
Fletcher, Diaz Recinos helped the Yankee pirates steal the
gold from the mines of the nation. His treacherous relationship
with Nicaragua was the product of his lack of a sense of self,
independence, character, and political morality. Being a house
servant of Yankee pirates was his source of self-realization and
pride.
Unlike Augusto Csar Sandino, Daz Recinos did not

have the sense of dignity nor did he understand it as the
Page 77
About the Author
principal value of the nation. Therefore, he handed control of

the finances of the State and the train to the bandits Brown
Brothers & Company and J. & W. Seligman & Company as
security for loans to consolidate the State debt. Following his
example, the Conservative, Liberal, and Sandinista politicians
that have succeeded him in the Government have not rejected
the collection of the odious debt as the exercise of a national
liberation duty. On the contrary, they continue to indebt and
sell the country as a profitable commodity.
The Conservative Party undermined the future of the

train as a social good and stimulus for the development of the
nation, which was supported by the faithful work of the
proletariat. The Yankee imperialist usurers infected the minds
of their Nicaraguan encomenderos (their trusted bandits,
vendepatrias or traitors, in the Government) with their modus
operandi: bribery, fraud, lying, and aggressing. The usurers
converted their Nicaraguan henchmen into the transmitters of
the political corruption plague that continues to dominate the
conduct of the bureaucracy that exploits the Catholic
Bourgeois State.
Daz Recinos created the political mannequin which

continues to be the model of conduct that all his successors in
the Government have followed. His creeping behavior,
shamelessness, lying, stealing, self-indulgence, and social
indifference became the characteristics of the new generations
of catholic politicians. Like their Conservative founding father,
they do not have character and are corruptible under the heat
of the desire for power, fortune, and fame.
The rulers who had the duty of preserving the train

continued using it as a pawning object with a value relative to
Page 78
About the Author
their meanness and political advantage. Therefore, they

neglected, dismantled, and, finally, Violeta Barrios Torres de
Chamorrowho was the President of Nicaragua in 1994
sold it as scrap metal. Doa Violeta also took the power of the
State with the backing of the CCC and the Yankee Empire
under the Presidency of George Herbert Walker Bush, a
member of the Republican Party. Doa Violeta ended what
Daz Recinos started out with the same vendepatria (traitorous)
mentality of sacrificing the heritage of the nation to keep
fattening the Yankee imperialist usurers with the bloody
payment of interest on the odious debt.
The train was a source of work, life, joy and poetic

inspiration for thousands of people. The declaration of love
for the train of Norma Ramosan Agent at the Mateare
Stationreveals the feeling that the proletariat had developed
for their work instrument and the true motherland
consciousness. In the Canal 10 Nicaragua interview for the
Documentary the Train: On the Rails of Memory, on
September 23, 2011, Ms. Ramos said: "It was like my husband,
everything, everything to me."
However, the lackeys of the Yankee imperialist usurers,

the bourgeoisie, and the Vatican who lived off the States
usufruct eliminated it to comply with the conditions of the
army of social extermination called International Monetary
Fund (IMF) and World Bank (WB). The politicians that
destroyed the value of the train for the life of the proletariat
revealed the truth of their consciousness. To them, the national
heritage is a merchandise subject to the law of supply and
demand. Therefore, love for the motherland and loyalty to her
are feelings that are not a condition for their existence. In
economic reality, politicians are social parasites who live off
Page 79
About the Author
the sale of the resources of the country they claim to represent.

Love and loyalty are only objects of their demagogic speeches
in their political campaigns, driven by their ambition,
falsehood, and social indifference.
Page 80
About the Author
2.3 The Catholic Somoza Dictatorship
I woke up to the cognitive life in a society whose

citizens had adapted to the life of indifferent prisoners of the
dictatorship of the Colonialist Catholic Church and Anastasio
Somoza Garca, the so-called Tacho. He was another trusted
villain of the Holy See and the White House whom they had
designated as the overseer of their interest in Nicaragua.
Tacho, who had appointed himself Generalafter failing as a
businessmanwas the boss of the bourgeois, catholic, pro-
Yankee imperialist, and terrorist Mafia that controlled the life
of the nation, the exploitation of the proletariat, and the
appropriation of the wealth that the working class produced.
The features of that worldwhich had been shaped by

the violence of the Spanish Empire, the Catholic Empire, and
the Yankee Empirewere the social scourges that had formed
on the open wounds of the consciousness of the survivors of
the Indigenous Holocaust. To convert them into faithful
tributary slaves, the empires armies dehumanized them and
attempted to remove their instinct for freedom. Illiteracy,
unemployment, impoverishment, alcoholism, prostitution,
diseases, social violence, and fear of God and Somozas
National Guardwhich was trained by the U.S. Marine
Corpswere also the conditions of the time in which my
parents were born: The occupation of Nicaragua by the
Yankee Marines.
The Catholic Somoza Dictatorship shaped the mind of

my mother and father with the same mold that the encomenderos
and curas doctrineros used to forge the dispossessed indigenous
family model during the colonial period, which was based on
Page 81
About the Author
the exploitation of children by their parents. The dictatorship

maintained this kind of familywith obscurantism, faith, and
alcoholto keep the new generations of dispossessed slaves
detained in the same social jail in which their parents were
born.
My parents did not liberate themselves from the prison

of faith in God and the State because they did not build the
necessary scientific and revolutionary awareness of themselves,
the world, and their relationship with it. Their condition was
not the effect of a genetic flaw in the evolution of their
perception. Rather, it was the result of the occupation of their
mindsand their ancestors mindsby their colonial
oppressors, their religion, and their economy.
To fulfill the political mission of their Colonialist

Catholic Church, the curas doctrineros suppressed my
progenitors instinct for freedom and marked their foreheads
with the words Confiteor and Creed as the manifestation
of the purpose of their lives. The confession of sin and the
declaration of belief in Godthe acts of fear that the Holy
Inquisition induced in their victimswere the psychological
instruments with which the doctrinaire priests reduced their
thinking to the most minimal expression of obscurantism.
My originators religious slavery was the result of the

spiritual defeat of the native nations in the Spanish Empires
and the Catholic Empires war to dehumanize, dispossess, and
convert them into slaves of the Christian salvation tributary
system. Granada accepted their condition as the exercise of
their freedom of worship. The citizens did not see it as a crime
of dehumanization because the Catholic Emotion Machine
had replaced their sense of humanity with the image of a
Page 82
About the Author
crucified stranger. Therefore, my parents became the

thoughtless transmitters of the traumas that they absorbed
from their relationship with their parents. The context in which
the transmission happened was the same: A semi-feudal society
controlled by sorcerers armed with crucifixes and illiterate
soldiers armed with M1 Garands which the Yankee Empire
had donated to the Catholic Somoza Dictatorship.
The method that my progenitors used to relate with

methe imposition of Catholicism, forced labor, physical
punishment, contempt, and domestic violence influenced by
my fathers alcoholismproduced a relationship ruled by
patriarchal power, intimidation, superstition, and emotional
distance. The way they treated me was a reflection of the whip
that the encomenderos and curas doctrineros used to reduce the
indigenous and Afro-descendant nations. The proletarian
family which was thus formed by the Catholic Somoza
Dictatorship was the matrix that produced the slaves who
supported the base of the pyramid on whose cusp the
bourgeoisie, its dictator, and Bishop lived opulently.
Page 83
About the Author
2.4 Adolescence in a Catholic City
In 1962, I was shaken by the explosion in my testicles

of the testosterones which caused the spontaneous downpours
of sperm that announced the start of the puberty of my life. I
became an adolescent in a catholic City. The chemical upheaval
in my body coincided with the Telstar 1 telecommunications
revolution. My adolescence had sprung in a world undergoing
the political convulsions caused by the inequality imposed by
the Church and the State and the dispossessed peoples
struggle for survival.
At the White House, John F. Kennedy approved the

use of the defoliant Agent Orange in the Yankee Plutocracys
war against the Vietnamese people. Pope John XXIII
excommunicated Fidel Alejandro Castro Ruz for supporting a
communist government. And the Sandinista Front for
National Liberation endeavored to become a revolutionary
force capable of accelerating the speed of the wheel of the cart
that carried the effects of Nicaraguas rural life.
Meanwhile, Granada lived as a blessed believer that

communicated through the confessional and the Telegraph.
The information generated by the life of the rest of humanity,
inventions and revolutions, was censored by the Security
Office. It was the main arm of the catholic, bourgeois, pro-
Yankee imperialist, and terrorist dictatorship led by Luis
Anastasio Somoza Debayle, the so-called Luisito. He had
become the de facto President of Nicaragua after his father,
Anastasio Somoza Garca, the so-called Tacho, was executed
by Rigoberto Lpez Prez.
Page 84
About the Author
The Telstar 1 transmissions did not touch the citizens

foreheads because they lived like the characters in a series of
religious scenes projected on the chimeric space of a stamp.
Their behavior did not reveal they knew they were elements of
a world that moved and changed. For centuries, the Colonialist
Catholic Church (CCC) had conditioned their minds with the
Ecclesiastical Calendar and the sound of the bell that called
them to the temple to confess their sins, repent, receive
penance, and pay the resurrection tithe.
The curas doctrineros (the catholic doctrinaire priests) had

transmitted the historical trauma caused by the Spanish
Empires indigenous holocaust through the minds of the new
generations of slaves of the Holy See as the unbroken link that
had kept them in a state of religious alienation since 1524. After
years of ink-on-paper independence from the Spanish Empire,
the City had not created an autonomous life because it had
surrendered itselfas a defeated and terrorized animalto its
soul hunters irremediably.
The citizens of Granada lived as an organ attached to

the parasitic body of the clergy through the umbilical cord of
their concern with guilt for sin, penance, and redemption.
Catholic indoctrination had turned them into objects of their
mortification. Their acts of faith before a crucifix were modern
forms of human sacrifice to appease the wrath of a God that
they did not know but feared and wanted as their redeemer.
That conflict kept them in a psychotic statewithout signs of
vigor or freedomwhich was the link of their addiction to the
objects of religion. The Colonialist Church had succeeded in
replacing the citizens instinct, that is, the logical operation of
their neurons with the dependence of their minds on the
hallucinatory rites it conducted.
Page 85
About the Author
The struggle of the Citys classes for survival did not

stimulate their dissent with themselves as the objects of a
backward mode of production stimulated with the incense of
Catholicism. Bourgeois and proletarians lived in the illusion
that they were children of the same Motherland and Holy
Mother Church. The static force of religion neutralized the
social transformation potential implicit in their class interest
and their interaction through the system of production of the
nation's wealth.
The result of the illusion was a citizenry suspended in

time, like a relic. In the social reality, the proletarians were the
survivors of the Indigenous Holocaust that the encomenderos and
curas doctrineros had dispossessed and forced into tributary-
slavery. Unlike the bourgeois, the proletarians did not have a
political party nor struggled against their class enemies armed
with their class consciousness. The conquered and the
conquerors participated in the Eucharist and had become the
fearful objects of the Catholic Somoza Dictatorship. Praying
May God's will be done and kneeling before a doctrinaire
priest to accept the impression of an ash cross on their
foreheads seemed to transfuse into their minds the sense of
equality and peace between them.
The Catholic Somoza Dictatorships holy men and

guardsmen had paralyzed the citizens free, mundane, and
revolutionary instinct with terror. The delusion of guilt for the
original sin kept them praying I confess to Almighty God
on their knees in a temple. Superstition had replaced their
evolutionary, social need to confront themselves in the mirror
of the real world that moved, constantly driven by hunger, the
class struggle for survival, politics, and revolution. With Mass,
political repression, and the murder of its political opponents,
Page 86
About the Author
the dictatorship prevented the transformation of the majority

of the citizens hunger into political consciousness and
revolutionary wrath.
Granada was not a City adequate to the revolution of

adolescence nor the growth of revolutionary ideas. Historically,
its purpose was to serve as the mansion and the garrison of the
administrators of the colonial catholic power. The City was the
supervisor of the exploitation of the native slaves, the pillage
of Nicaragua, the collection of the tribute, and the repressor of
the social overflow.
The young, freethinkers, gay, poetic, and long-haired

citizens were repressed by the soldiers of the colonial catholic
morality as a danger to the power of the descendants of the
thieves who stole the native nations land and the spirit of their
freedom. The conservative ruling class confronted the youths
impetus for freedom, sexuality, and creativity with the
spectacle of the Passion and Independence Day to confuse
their desire.
The CCC had converted Granada into a Holy Week

Relic that it sold to the resurrection tithe-payers to maintain
the power of the Vatican Bank and the College of Cardinals
opulent lifestyle.
Page 87
About the Author
3. Education
Diplomas
Elementary School: Escuela Padre Misieri - Granada,
Nicaragua
High School: Colegio Salesiano San Juan Bosco - Granada,
Nicaragua
Industrial Clerk: Associated Colleges of California - Los
Angeles, California, U.S.
Professional Legal Assistant: American International Career
College - San Diego, California, U.S.
Exams Passed
Civil Service: City of Los Angeles Government - California,
U.S.
Notary Public: State of California Government - U.S.
Translator (from Spanish to English): Los Angeles City
College - Los Angeles, California, U.S.
Studies
Jurisprudence: Universidad Centroamericana (UCA) -
Managua, Nicaragua
English Language: Alemany Adult High School - San
Francisco, California, U.S.
Associate in Arts Degree: Los Angeles City College
Graphic Design: Los Angeles Trade Technical College - Los
Angeles, California, U.S.
Page 88
About the Author
Scholarships
High School: Colegio Salesiano San Juan Bosco
Associate in Arts: Los Angeles City College
Prizes
First Place: Catechism knowledge contest organized by the
Colonialist Catholic Church of Granada, Nicaragua.
Honor Roll: Colegio Salesiano San Juan Bosco
Deans Honor List: Los Angeles City College
Second Place: Speech contest organized by the English
Department of the Los Angeles City College
Student of the Month: American International Career
College - San Diego, California, U.S.
Page 89
About the Author
4. Literary Activity
Prizes
Excellence in Poetry Certificate awarded by Teresinka
Pereira, director of the International Society of Poetry at the
University of Colorado in Boulder, CO, U.S.
First Place in Poetry awarded by Lillian Walsh, editor of For
Poets Only, a poetry magazine published in Jackson Heights,
New York, U.S.
Edited Books
Venus Is Bleeding by Roxanna Gmez Sequeira
Please Dont Circumcise My Clitoris by Roxanna Gmez
Sequeira
Alice in Weirdland by Roxanna Gmez-Ubau
My Home Cooking by Marie Marn
El Salvador: The Betrayal of the Farabundo Mart National
Liberation Front (FMLN) (Spanish Edition) by Armando A.
Molina
On the Edge of Silence: My Journey on the Boulder by Rodolfo
Sotelo Jr.
Edited Magazines
Censored Poem, Red and Black, Class Struggle, Sacrifice the Common
Sense, Electronic Poetry, The Darwinian Primate, Politikos, and
Chemical World.
Page 90
About the Author
Contributions
LA Weekly - Los Angeles, California, U.S.
Free Venice Beachhead - Venice, California, U.S.
Page 91
About the Author
5. Work
Nicaragua
In Granada, HuGS worked as a seller of flowers and
popsicles, shoeshine boy, Lazarillo or a boy who guides a
blind person, Algebra tutor, newspaper reporter (El Mundo
or The World), radio announcer (Radio Sport and Radio
Granada), and factory worker.
United States
In San Francisco, California, HuGS worked as a
dishwashing machine operator in the kitchen of the
Fairmont San Francisco Hotel for a salary of $1.00 per hour
of work.
In Los Angeles, California, HuGS worked as a dishwashing
machine operator, stock clerk, factory worker, retail clerk,
Notary Public, translator, and Retirement Benefits Specialist.
Public Service
In the City of Los Angeles Government, HuGS worked in
the Retirement Department as a Benefits Specialist for 30
years. In that entity, he counseled the members and
beneficiaries of the retirement plan on the provisions of the
Administrative Code for benefits and how to request
payment of them. Furthermore, he performed the functions
of Legal Assistant, a specialist in the processing of
Community Property Division Court Orders, instructor,
writer of manuals, Notary Public, and translator from
Spanish to English.
Page 92
About the Author
Work Certificates
Certificate of Excellent Public Service awarded by
the Los Angeles City Employees Retirement System.
Certificate of Employee of the Quarter awarded by
the Los Angeles City Employees Retirement System.
Work in Behalf of Undocumented Immigrant
Workers
In Los Angeles, HuGS helped undocumented immigrant
workers, in 1987, to understand the terms and conditions of
the Immigration Control and Reform Act (IRCA) of 1986
of the Federal Government of the United States. Moreover,
he assisted them with the acquisition and translation, from
Spanish to English, of the documents required by the law so
that they could request amnesty and an immigrant visa.
Page 93
The Colonialist Catholic Church
Abused this Boy
Humberto Gmez Sequeira-HuGS on the day that his parents

delivered him to a doctrinaire priest of the Colonialist Catholic
Church, for the administration of the First Communion
poisonous vaccine, at the San Jos Chapel of the San Juan de
Dios Hospital. Granada, Nicaragua. Circa 1956.

It Hurts To Feel

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It Hurts To Feel

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It Hurts to Feel

A poetic account of the ambivalent consequences of searching

Humberto Gmez Sequeira-HuGS

First Edition: June of 1992

About the Pictures in this Book

The picture on the cover: Ana Mara Sequeira Viuda de

The Third Edition of this book was printed in the United

2014 Notes from My Mobile Brain

Socialism of the XXI Century or the Anti-revolution (Spanish

Nicaragua: The Dialogue Between the Doctrinaire Priests and

In Transition Towards Poetry: Granada (Nicaragua), the

Visions of a Somnambulist (Spanish Edition)

Ana Mara Sequeira Viuda de Gmez, my mother

Franklin Bartolom Gmez Sequeira, Jos Dolores Gmez

Roxanna Gmez-Ubau, my daughter

Mara del Rosario Aguirre Durn, my life partner

Karen Reyes Bernhard

Alma Ivette Durn

Rodolfo Sotelo Jr.

My willful and sentimental disownment of my

This book is also my account of the ambivalent

My experience as the object of feeling and

I wrote the poems in a society dominated by the idea

The clergymen and the statesmen have eliminated the

Feeling hurts when the human beings freedom to feel

Poetry is my effort to feel and imagine humanity and

Humberto Gmez Sequeira-HuGS

Mara del Rosario Aguirre Durn contributes to the production

Karen Reyes Bernhard stimulated my perception with the

Teresinka Pereira supported the publication of my literary

Alma Ivette Durn read my works with loyalty and enthusiasm,

Winston Flores, Rodolfo Sotelo Jr., Monica Canales, and

To Lorrie Jackson ........................................................................ 43

Life as a vertebrate enabled me to crawl up the logical path of

Humberto Gmez Sequeira-HuGS

Like a resurrected serpent,

I fell asleep and dreamed

Then, I jumped onto

I put on the pants

I can 't hear the rhythm

All the empires have

Will someone recite the last prayer,

Heart and Wings

Of this world, I have nothing

My ship and my star

When it rains, a blue dolphin

I dreamed I was a somnambulist

The cold covers

And when it dawns,

Those who yesterday

A woman who can

like two gladiators

when the equation is solved

Soldiers and Pesticides

The Smithsonian Institute imports

The contaminated truth is flowing

McDonalds clown is capable

But flexing my heart's muscle

Instead, I'll use the hole on the top of my head

Boys are forbidden to cry

Learn the art of managing your pains

The traffic passes

I can hear the bones crashing